Headstrong
by TheVampireLucinda
Summary: To be the best, you have to beat the best. And to love the best, you'll have to accept that you'll always be just second best. Femslash! One-shot. Complete!


**Title** : Headstrong

 **Author** : TheVampireLucinda

 **Featuring** : Charlotte/Becky Lynch; mentions of Sasha Banks/Bayley

 **Disclaimer** : Slash!

 **Summary** : To be the best, you have to beat the best. And to love the best, you'll just have to accept that you'll always be just second best. Femslash! One-shot.

 _A/N: Gahhh! My first try at femslash! I really do adore the NXT women... They're doing great things for the wrestling business, especially with the WWE being such a well known company. Also, I'm crushing hard on Dana Brooke, but I can't figure out a story to write her yet, HAHA. Also, I refuse to use the word "Diva" to refer to the women wrestlers. To me, "Diva" is a degrading word, so...I won't be using it. Sorry not sorry._

* * *

I was out breath and pissed off as by the time I stumbled to the backstage area that night, clutching at my aching neck the entire time.

I was still the Women's Champion, _of course_ , but I think I just lost one of my closest friends in the process.

And for _what_?!

Back in the day, Becky Lynch and I had been so close...Bayley and Sasha were like little sisters to me, sure. They love each other, and always have. Even through the worst of it.

But Becky was _my_ other half. _My_ best friend. The love of _my_ life. And I had truly believed that nothing, not even super-stardom, could come between us.

Apparently, I thought wrong.

My thoughts were bitter as I sat—alone—in the locker room and taped up my damaged arm, courtesy of one pissed off Becky Lynch.

I had tried to explain to the Irishwoman that, while being together was nice, being the Champion was even better. That I, Charlotte, was born and bred to hold that title; that, honestly, no one on the roster, male or female, could compare to me. I was simply superior in every way.

And I just wanted Becky to accept that, to accept _me_.

"Can you love me, even if I'm better than you?"

Oh boy...she hadn't responded well to the question, when I asked it to her one night as we sat side by side on the bed. Becky had stared at me like I had two heads before standing up silently, and walking out.

And the next time we saw each other, we came to blows.

I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong. Was it over between us? What, exactly, made Becky so upset?

"You're so stupid sometimes, d'you know that, Charlotte?" Becky had asked, tears hovering in her beautiful eyes. "I love you, but you can't seem to see anything beyond yourself."

Her words still haunt me, as much as her tears. God, I hate to see her cry. She's the strong one, dammit.

In fact, as each night passes that I spent alone in my room (when I'm not out partying with my dear old dad), I began to think more and more about _maybe_ taking back some of the things that I'd said.

After all, wasn't being with Becky more important than being the Champion?

But something deep inside of my soul balked against that.

Being on top, being the best, was the most important thing in this world. Who needed love when you had a title around your waist?

As I look from my injured arm to the too-large mirror, I can see that a decision now stands before me. On the one side is Becky—my beautiful, fiery, strong, passionate, skilled, kind Becky. And, on the other side, is the title—also beautiful, in its own way, a symbol of _my_ strength, skill, and passion.

I can't choose! I love them both!

The ridiculousness of those words aren't lost on me. But they're the truth.

If I'm honest, I know that I've already made the choice. I know that I could never trade the title for anyone—not even the woman I love most in the world.

And deep down inside, I think that Becky knows it too.

No wonder she hates me. Hell, _I'd_ hate me if I was her.

I'm not liking my expression in this damn mirror, so I brush back my hair with my hands. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of my life?

I wonder if Becky would forgive me, if she _could_ forgive me. I mean, you couldn't un-ring a bell, after all. And there's no used crying over spilled milk...

 _Ugh, I'm thinking like my dad._

I slap myself hard. But the image of Becky Lynch never truly leaves my thoughts; nor do the memories of the years we spent together.

Becky had always been by my side; and I had foolishly assumed that it would be that way forever.

"Sorry," I whisper into the silence of the empty room.

And, to my utter surprise, my reflection is telling me that the Women's Champion is crying.

Huh. Maybe there's hope for me yet.

 _Watch me fall_

 _Watch me break_

 _Watch me crawl_

 _Downfallen on_

 _(Yes, you meant the world to me)_

 _My sweet love_

 _So headstrong_

 _(Are you?)_

 _Strong_

* * *

 _Fin._

 _Lyrics at the end courtesy of Earshot's song "Headstrong"_

 _Review?_


End file.
